Honorable attempt first, Eric thought. He’d been right to come to the Military District. He’d suspected that Ehran would be on one of the large grassy fields, training other soldiers in some way, and he wasn’t disappointed. The figure in master’s robes was instantly recognizable amidst the drab uniforms of general militiamen. Just as Eric entered the complex, Ehran had a long slender sword out and was demonstrating a complicated pattern of strikes for the soldiers, who all watched intently.

He moved like a river, with infinite grace and perfect balance. Each time that he finished a strike or parry, his left hand was spread out in the opposite direction for balance, two fingers extended like a small blade of their own. There were no faults in his movements, and despite the obvious finesse, Eric couldn’t deny the power behind each of his movements. Bold, carefully planned in advance, and deadly. He attempted to swallow nervously, but something about the display seemed to have created a lump in his throat.

Ehran seemed to sense his arrival on the quad, glancing slowly in his direction after the last flurry of attacks delivered with blinding speed. He rose to full height and pointed directly at him with his left hand. The soldiers gathered around him looked to see where he was pointing, and finally noticed Eric himself. The intent of the simple action was clear. I see you, we all see you. A shiver of primal fear ran down Eric’s spine.

“Come, join us,” Ehran called, his voice as light and friendly as possible. “We’re just about to begin the interesting part of the session.”

Despite the sense of dread, he got from even the lightest of Ehran’s movements, Eric forced his feet to move. They felt like lead bricks as they carried him closer, and he attempted to swallow again, this attempt no more successful than the last. Crossing the short distance felt like an eternity, but he finally made it, falling into the gap the other soldiers had made for him.

“Master Tokugawa,” one of the soldiers, easily the oldest of the lot, stepped forward with a frown. “This session is reserved for our unit. Inviting an outsider to join is highly irregular.”

“Apprentice Breeden is no outsider, Corporal Rainhall,” Ehran said lightly. “He is a prospective student of mine.”

The corporal spared Eric one long, searching look before staring resolutely back at Ehran. He was not pleased. “I see. Please forgive my interruption, Master.”

“Not to worry,” Ehran replied, favoring the man with a smile. “Right then. Someone tell me, if you can, what is the worst position a warrior can find himself in?”

“Being outnumbered, Master,” one warrior said.

“Wrong.” Ehran’s reply was light, but it hit like a ton of bricks. The warrior who had spoken took a half-step back, bowing his head in shame.

“Being surrounded?” Another warrior spoke. His voice lacked any certainty.

“Wrong,” Ehran said again.

“Broken weapon.” The corporal offered.

“Wrong.”

“Being outmatched?” Another guessed. Everyone seemed to have a guess.

“Wrong.”

“Being off-balance?”

“Wrong.”

The entire time he shut down their answers, Ehran was watching Eric closely. Perhaps he thought Eric would try to attack him while he was distracted with the guesses. Unlikely, Eric thought. He was too intimidated to even meet the Master’s eyes. Instead, he let his gaze wander around the wide circle. Ehran had displayed finesse, power, speed, balance, and confidence all in one package as he’d demonstrated his moves. What could possibly be a bad situation for him?

“Doubt.” The world slipped from Eric’s mouth without his intent.

Ehran pointed at him again. “Correct.”

Mutters broke out among the warriors, as some turned to the man beside them and said something with an exasperated expression. Ehran cast a stern look over the circle, his eyes suddenly dark and stormy, and the sound died away. The corporal, however, was determined to register his complaint once again. He took a step forward.

“But, Master Tokugawa,” he said slowly, clearly controlling his temper with an effort. “Doubt comes from a lack of confidence. If we train hard and gain experience, we cannot be stopped by doubt.”

“Really?” Ehran swung round to face him, his face once more polite and friendly. “Do you think you could defeat me in a duel, then?”

“Well, no.”

“Why not? You have training and experience. What gives you doubt?”

“Well,” The corporal said slowly, his face a few shades paler. “You’re a Master.”

“So?” Ehran asked, keeping his voice light still. “What does that matter?”

“You are from Issho-Ni!” The corporal protested. “You are the second in command to Master Calemviir. I could never hope to defeat you in single combat.”

“Your statements are contradictory, Corporal Rainhall.”

The man opened his mouth to say something else but seemed to think better of it. He was eyeing Ehran nervously as if preparing for a rebuke of some kind. After a few seconds of silence, he seemed to realize his mouth was hanging open, and closed it with a snap, stepping back into the circle without another word.

“Doubt,” Ehran continued, pacing in a small circle. “It is a warrior’s greatest enemy. Allow it to enter your heart, and you will most certainly fall. What do you need to keep doubt away? Many would say pride. Many are fools. Some would say confidence. Some are ignorant. Breeden. What allows us to repel doubt in combat and life?”

“I, err,” Eric said hesitantly, taken by surprise. “I don’t know.”

“No?” Ehran asked him, then turned to face the others. “Anyone else?”

But there were no guesses this time. Looking wholly unsurprised, Ehran allowed a thin smile to form on his face. “Discipline, my friends. Discipline allows us to overcome the obstacle known as doubt.”

A few short gasps of realization echoed his words, and many warriors nodded slightly, smiles forming on their faces as well. Eric felt a certain lessening in his stomach and heaved a quiet sigh of relief. There was something uplifting about Ehran’s reply, despite the harsh way he’d spoken during the lecture. It was strange, Eric thought. Tokugawa managed to, in one moment, inspire both dread and bravery in those he addressed. He wasn’t just a master of the sword. He could reach into your heart, and invoke powerful emotions.

I would follow this man into hell itself, Eric thought. Then he shook himself mentally, wondering what the hell had gotten into him. He was here to attack this man and force him to agree to teach him, not to admire him. That would come later after the Japanese warrior acknowledged his skill. He drew his sword, and took a half-step forward, raising it into the ready position. There was a mutter of panic and displeasure from the nearby warriors, but Ehran grinned widely as if he’d expected nothing less.

“Excellent!” He crowed, raising his own sword. “I commend your spirit!”

The other warriors hurriedly took a few steps back, widening the circle and giving the two more room. Eric took two more steps toward Ehran, who stayed where he was. That tight feeling of fear had returned now, as he realized that he’d just challenged an actual master head-on. Shaking himself more forcefully, he lunged as fast as he could, the tip of his sword aiming for Ehran’s chest.

Tokugawa’s blade intercepted Eric’s with an ear-ringing screech and forced it to the side, then the master was spinning away and to the side, seemingly carried by the faint evening breeze. Eric whirled in place, ready to defend, but Ehran showed no sign of attacking, so he swung again a broad swipe. His opponent stepped nimbly out of range, then darted back in, hooking one foot behind Eric’s knee and easily knocking his legs out from under him.

Eric hit the ground more gently than he’d expected, and rolled away frantically to avoid any attacks. Ehran stood where he was, letting him escape. He barked out one order, his voice firm as any battlemaster’s.

“Next!”

After a slight moment of hesitation, the corporal launched an attack. His sword came straight down in a chop that Ehran parried with consummate ease. Ehran grabbed the corporal by the scruff of the neck, and spun him in place, then planted a firm kick in his backside, sending him stumbling back to where he’d started.

With a loud battlecry, another member of the circle charged forward. He was positioned behind Ehran, and he too attempted an overhead strike. Instead of parrying or dodging, Ehran took half a step back, inside the man’s reach, and grabbed his sword arm with his free hand. A hefty tug and the warrior was thrown forward over Ehran’s shoulder, hitting the ground with a grunt. Smiling widely, Tokugawa just tugged again, sending the warrior sliding and rolling back to his starting position.

Another warrior attempted to strike him. Then another. And another. No matter who attacked, or what tactic they used, they were rebuffed with almost contemptuous ease by the Master. He was like the wind, unable to pin down. He flitted back and forth with casual movements, redirecting each challenger in a whirl of movement, then shunting them back to their place in the circle.

Eric tried again, with an almost identical result. Ehran flicked his sword upward, and, while he was distracted by the sudden change in balance, Ehran struck him in the chest with the palm of his hand. There was enough force in the strike to knock him down and back. He slid to a stop in the exact same position he’d started in.

Then two warriors attacked at once, clearly hoping to pin Ehran down somehow. This proved no more successful than the previous attempts. Then three tried, and four, and five. Try as they might, the master parried, blocked, or sidestepped their attacks with blinding speed and perfect balance. Each move he made was so fluid and coordinated that he seemed to be a ghost. He dodged each attack with only the bare minimum of required effort, leaving no openings for others to take advantage of.

Eric tried for the third time but was much more careful about this attempt. He waited until one of the other warriors launched an attack, and followed behind the man as closely as he could. The instant Ehran parried the first attack away, he lunged forward with the point of his own sword. For the briefest moment, it looked like he would succeed. The point of his weapon was an inch away, but then it was smacked aside.

Eric felt a sharp blow between his shoulder blades as Ehran struck him, and he was slammed into the ground. Stars popped in his vision, and he heaved air back into his lungs even as he tried to crawl away. Coughing, eyes streaming with pain, he rolled to face Ehran, sword raised. Too late. He was presented with the image of Ehran towering over him, long blade extended. The point rested lightly on his neck, and he froze.

Another skill. Great, Eric thought. It was the perfect consolation prize for getting his ass handed to him. Ehran withdrew his sword from Eric’s throat and offered him a hand to pull him to his feet. Eric accepted it, and the master pulled him up with one swift move, then dusted his shoulders off. They made eye contact for a long while, then, and Eric nodded silently, understanding the message being passed along. If he wanted to learn, he had to work for it. He excused himself then, thanking Ehran for the lesson. As he walked away, he heard him begin talking to the other warriors again, explaining the next part of the lesson.